


Reclaim

by CupidStrikes



Category: Tales of Graces
Genre: M/M, ending spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-05-18
Updated: 2012-05-18
Packaged: 2017-11-05 14:23:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/407440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CupidStrikes/pseuds/CupidStrikes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One victory doesn't erase the war.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reclaim

**Author's Note:**

> Hopefully this will contain multiple chapters and span the six month period between the end of the main arc, and the beginning of the future arc. Enjoy!

_It seems that all my bridges have been burnt,  
But you say that's exactly how this grace thing works:  
It's not the long walk home that will change this heart  
But the welcome I receive with the restart._

 

Richard had felt fear on many occasions in his time. All the attempts on his life – laying bedridden as his body fought against the poison in his system. Watching his father die at his uncle's hand, and realising that his home had turned on him. The fear of being an unfit ruler (though he was quite sure that had become a reality now). Lambda's claws taking a stronger and stronger hold on his mind until he had become a prisoner in his own body. Richard knew fear born of all kinds of events, and all had shaken him deep down to his very bones, but none so very much as this single moment.

Asbel wasn't moving.

Asbel who had run to his side, run to pull him out of the depths of despair and willingly taken on his burden. Asbel who had never – wouldn't ever – betray him, and who had come for him despite everything now so close to being swallowed by the darkness that had promised himself so much...

Richard forced himself to his feet and staggered over to where the rest of the party stood vigil at Asbel's side, ignoring Cheria's protests and kneeling by his side. His chest burned and his knees barely supported him but Richard gritted his teeth and focussed his mind solely on his friend. His only true friend, whom even when called a traitor had come running right back to defend him. The ground was strangely smooth but still his knees ached, and he was quite sure he wouldn't be able to stand again without aid. He licked his lips, and sought out something to say. A king should be able to conceive an inspiring speech in seconds, but Richard found all words unpronounceable. All but one.

“Asbel....”

The name hung in the air and Richard shivered as he felt the others' eyes turn on him. His voice sounded strange without Lambda's taint, even to himself, and his throat prickled with pain at even such soft use. He reached a hand towards the prone figure, and was surprised that he was even allowed to touch him; this was his doing, and truly he wouldn't have blamed Cheria, Malik, or even Sophie, if they had stopped him. He was the bad guy, and he couldn't blame all of his actions on Lambda – and Richard knew well that they wouldn't give him such a scapegoat either. He could only dread what he would tell Duke Dalen, the council, his people...

Asbel's shoulder was solid and reassuringly warm under his palm, and he felt the faint thrum of blood in the veins beneath cloth and skin.

“Please, be in there. Don't take him from me, too,” he whispered, tightening his fingers to hide how much they were trembling. The fabric of Asbel's jacket creased beneath Richard's hand, and he felt the knight twitch slightly.

“Asbel!” Cheria's hand finds Asbel's chest, and he opens his eyes finally. He sits up, slowly, and looks at them before slowly smiling,

“Hey guys,”

Cheria beams, and Hubert helps his brother to his feet. Pascal jumps up and down and twirls Sophie around whilst Malik gives his Asbel a thumbs up. One by one they welcome Asbel back to the land of the living, congratulating him on winning Lambda over – on resisting him.

Richard hasn't ever felt as weak as he does in that moment. He has a void inside him where Lambda had once fit so snugly. He feels cold without the soothing hum of Lambda's approval, and utterly drained from allowing an immortal entity with no concept of exhaustion free reign over his fragile, mortal body. All his life he had been taught to never forget who he was, and to always act accordingly. Funny, how the moment his father was out of the picture he had gone astray. Perhaps he needed much more guidance than he had so arrogantly thought. Much more, and Richard knows that he would deserve it all too well if the party left him there now, or had killed him when they had the chance.

No one would mourn a king who had turned on his own people, would they?

But then Asbel is offering him a hand, smiling warmly – as if Richard hadn't been trying to kill them less than a half hour ago – and tugging him into a tight hug once Richard is on his feet,

“I missed you,” Asbel whispers for only Richard to hear, and the empty hole Lambda left in Richard's chest feels a little smaller already,

“It's good to be back,” is all Richard can say, and it seems to be enough as Asbel takes a firm hold of his wrist, and that is enough to banish his thoughts of inadequacy for now.

“Let's go home, Richard.”

He stumbles up the first stairs they come to and there is no hesitance in Asbel as he wraps Richard's arm around his neck, his own strong and stable around the king's waist. Richard thanks him in a husky, painful tone, and tries to hide a grimace as each step makes pain burst anew. Asbel doesn't grumble about the slow pace, or the extra weight, though gods know he must be exhausted from all the fighting, and the journey to the depths of the Gardia Shaft. Richard catches the glances, though – the others clearly feeling less than generous after all he had put them through.

Richard sighs in relief when their shuttle finally comes into view, and he barely acknowledges the pain as Asbel carefully helps him into a seat. He had expected to be dumped there, and he hopes that he manages to convey his gratitude, somehow, with the thanks he gives him. Whatever Asbel's thoughts, he flops into the chair next to Richard's and grins at him tiredly,

“You've not flown in this yet, have you? You're in for a treat.” Richard can't help but smile at the excitement in Asbel's voice, and how his only thought at that moment is about his enjoyment of the flight, rather than any of the thousand little negatives he could be picking at.

Asbel's attention is diverted when Cheria comes between them, holding her hands above Asbel's chest as she begins to cast a healing arte. Asbel stops her before the spell can spark to life, shakes his head and motions towards Richard,

“Check Richard first,” he says, smiling at her and gently trying patting her hand. Cheria glances at Richard, her brown eyes narrowed, and her anxious expression turning to one of faint dislike. Richard understands it – she may have been selfless, but that couldn't override her compulsion to protect those she loved, Asbel being the foremost to her. Asbel sighs and doesn't protest again when Cheria recasts her arte, and makes sure there isn't a scratch left on him before finally accepting to tend to Richard,

“Thank you,” Richard offers her a smile, and moves as much as he can when prompted. Cheria closes her eyes and takes a deep breath before getting to work. She returns the smile only once she is done, but it doesn't quite reach her eyes. She returns to her seat then, satisfied her job is done, and watches out of the window as Pascal fires up the engines for the journey back to Windor.

Richard stared silently out of the glass as the Ghardia Shaft disappeared below them, the Lastalia's light growing dimmer as they returned to the surface. He closed his eyes then and rested his head to the cool metal of the wall, letting the low whine of the engine lull his burnt out nerves into calm so that he could finally sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Lyrics used are from "Roll Away Your Stone" by Mumford & Sons.


End file.
